his most recent dates. He’d only left Scotland a little over a week ago. That meant he’d been away from a woman’s company for what, ten days, a fortnight? Not enough to be losing his cool in front of a sexy Texas babe.
“Er, no, I’m certain they wouldn’t, either. About where we’re spending the night—will there be a shelter of some sort?”
Halle snorted. “I’ve brought two quick-setup tents, one for each of us. This isn’t the Appalachian Trail, Alastair. We don’t have lean-tos out here, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“I assure you I can manage. And I’d prefer to sleep under the stars sans any tent or structure. I asked about the shelter to offer it to you.” And to see if they’d be alone the entire four days. He was finding he rather enjoyed the prospect of alone time with Halle Ford.
Save for his work. It seemed he was never without work, never had a break from worrying about his investments. Hiking in the wilderness had always been his way to let go of his responsibilities. He’d camped often as a boy, and enjoyed it through university. When Jeremy had suggested he do this with Halle, Alastair had relished the idea of sleeping on the ground again. What he hadn’t anticipated was such an attractive companion. He’d mistakenly thought he’d regret that anyone was with him, as Alastair’s solitude was his most precious possession. Somehow, Halle didn’t intrude on that for him.
“I’m sure you’re quite the camper, from what you’ve said.” Her tone indicated she didn’t believe it in the least.
“Before you judge me, I have to tell you that there are some business items I still have to take care of, even out here. Is this a good time for me to send off a few emails?”
“Suit yourself.”
He walked to the far side of the shady area and pulled his phone off his saddle. He felt guilty, as if he were infringing on the serenity of their surroundings, on the delightful companionship he was finding with Halle. His gut kept tugging at him, telling him that for some inexplicable reason his time with Halle Ford was precious.
He sighed and started to take care of business. The sooner he was done, the sooner he’d be able to fully enjoy Halle’s company.
More than for calls or texts, his phone was a minisatellite reception tower, all in one unit that fit in his pocket. Being a billionaire had its perks, one of which included solid Wi-Fi in the middle of Nowhere, Texas. He’d lied to Halle, too. He wasn’t checking email—he was checking the London Exchange, and the New York Stock Exchange. One thing that he’d inherited from the long line of Buchanan men who’d turned a farm distillery into a single malt Scotch global empire was his killer business instinct.
And right now, someone was trying to kill his life’s work, his legacy. Someone, either an entity or group of investors, was attempting a hostile takeover of Clyde Whiskey. It was strange, as it had popped up only since he’d arrived at Bluewood. He didn’t have the solid proof yet to alert his team, but he knew it the same way he knew why his family’s Scotch recipe was singularly the best of the best.
A crisp dry beating sound drew his gaze from his phone screen to the brush under his feet, next to the clay of the riverbank. He’d seen enough nature programs to recognize the copper-skinned reptile as a rattlesnake. It sported a black diamond pattern and was no farther than three feet from him. As thick as his wrist and coiled into a tight ball, its rattles shook inside the tail, indicating it was a highly agitated snake. He’d watched enough BBC nature programs to know that much.
Alastair also knew he had no defense against the deadly creature. He was rooted to the spot, afraid a sudden movement would force the snake to strike. No way would he be able to outrun its deadly speed, either. And if he got struck, he wouldn’t be able to warn Halle. Was this how he and Halle were going to meet their end? In the backwoods of Texas?
An unstoppable wave of primal emotion propelled him to raise his arm and throw his phone at the snake. Before his phone made it airborne, the snake struck.
“Back toward my voice, slowly.” Alastair would feel like a damned fool if he wasn’t certain he was near death. He held on to Halle’s voice. The snake’s head had hit the ground not two inches from the toes of his too-shiny, too-new cowboy boots as it had struck out at Alastair. The boots had seemed a more practical, if impulsive, buy when he was in Austin. He thanked God he was wearing them and not sneakers.
Halle’s voice gave him courage, not something he usually drew on from others. Even with a close family, Alastair considered himself a loner. His strength came from within. Not now. Halle was his rock as he complied, moving backward until he bumped into her. To his visceral relief, the snake slithered back underneath the rock it had been sunning on before he’d disturbed it.
He turned and found Halle’s eyes watching him, her luscious lips curved in a small smile. “Was that your first rattlesnake?”
“Yes.” But not the only threat out here in the Texas wilderness. Halle held a revolver in her hand. “Tell me, Halle. Do you always carry weapons on family trail rides?”
“Yes. For rattlesnakes and to warn off coyotes.” He suspected it was also in case she ran into criminals.
“Have you ever had to use it against a human being?”
“Not yet, but there’ve been a few scrapes.”
He was looking down at her, close enough to see that her eyes weren’t brown or even amber but the perfect shade of Clyde Whiskey. Single malt, the premium drink that enjoyed worldwide acclaim. But her eyes were just the start of a beautiful face, her nose small and classical, her lips full and incredibly erotic.
“Thank you for saving me, Halle.”
Her eyes looked at his mouth for a full heartbeat before she stepped away.
“You were fine. Rattlers don’t strike unless they feel cornered. You startled him off his sunning spot, that’s all. He would have backed off as long as you didn’t go after him.” Her speech was increasing in velocity. “Your boots helped, too—if he hit your leg you would have been safe. Although you wouldn’t need thousand-dollar boots for that. And for the record, you would have never hit him with your phone.”
“You really know how to make a man feel like John Wayne.”
“It’s all part of your special tour, Alastair. Are you hungry yet?” Her grin was genuine, a flash of inviting white. “We’ve got the best trail food in Texas. I cheated and used my two horseback coolers so that you could enjoy some real food out here. Of course, if you’d caught your friend, barbecued rattlesnake is tasty.”
“Like chicken, I take it?”
She laughed. “You might just survive out here, after all. Let’s eat.”
She spoke as they walked to the horses, and put the gun away in one of her saddlebags. “Sliced Texas brisket or egg salad sandwich?” She pulled out a small bag and held up two wax-paper wrapped bundles.
“Beef.”
They ate in relative silence, for which Alastair was grateful. He needed time to process what he’d just done for the first time in his life. He’d relied on someone other than himself or family to help him
